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it seemed to me, was waiting for me somewhere,
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was flowering like a faithful springtime behind a tightly locked gate
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whose key I had held in safekeeping for so many years,
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proved to be nonexistent.
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And there is nothing behind the gate
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but charred stumps and a hopeless autumnal distance,
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and the key in my hand is more like a skeleton key.
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So, there's a kind of lost paradise of European culture which he can't get back,
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even with this spectacular effort in English.
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So, that suggests that it's not all to the good;
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it hasn't been saved by taking up these knight's move techniques,
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the defamiliarizing techniques; there's still a record of damage.